


The Prince & His Servant

by Taybay14



Series: Saving people, writing prompts [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Angst, Crushes, Dubcon if you squint, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, Meddling Friends, Pining, Porn With Plot, Possessive Dean Winchester, Prince Dean Winchester, Smut, Virgin Castiel, cas is drunk, dean's an ass but secretly a good guy, manservant castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 17:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: "#2. Medieval: I'm a prince and a knight and I'm way better than you - my manservant - because you're annoying and not very good at your job and holy shit… you're naked in my bedroom. When did you get so good looking?"  --  a tumblr prompt from @adoptdontshoppets. Thank you, as always <3SO I liked writing this waaaay too much. I'm probably going to write a few more segments if there's enough interest.





	The Prince & His Servant

Castiel isn't sure how it happened. The past few months were like the wakening moments after sleep, when you straddle the universes of dreams and reality. Fuzzy. Fragmented. Intangible. Ever since he was made the prince’s manservant, he’s been running 24/7. Whenever Castiel gets a chance to breathe or relax, it’s like Prince Dean magically finds him, a “Castiel isn’t busy” radar going off, and he shows up to give five new orders. 

It's no wonder Castiel's not sure how it happened. He's not sure _ when _it happened. He was too busy to notice. 

But here he is, standing at the window watching Dean and his knights return from a three day journey, and all Castiel can think is - _ Holy shit. I love him. _

  


\---- 

  


Castiel shoves the revelation to the back of his mind and goes about his duties. He prepares Prince Dean’s chambers for sleeping, then gets him a late dinner and a cup of ale since he's probably starving. He draws him a bath, placing a fluffy towel and a fresh change of clothes on a chair beside the tub. Just as he's about to disappear and hope Dean doesn't request him for the rest of the night, the man himself comes strolling in. 

There's something that happens whenever Dean enters a room. The level of oxygen decreases and Castiel’s knees buckle ever so slightly. For the longest time, he believed this was just the product of being in the presence of someone so powerful. Now, though, he's thinking that it may be linked to the whole love thing. 

_ Stop thinking about that, Castiel. You do not love him. _

“Castiel? Are you listening?” A throw pillow is thrown at him as the words are barked across the room. Castiel jumps and whips around to face Dean, praying his blushing doesn't give him away. 

“What was that, Sire?” Castiel’s voice comes out hoarse and he could slap himself if he were alone. In fact, he thinks he may schedule a slap the second he leaves this room. Maybe then he will find some sense

Dean tilts his head to the side in question, but then looks away. “I need you to repair my shield, sharpen my sword, polish my boots, and clean my chainmail. I’ll need all of it by dawn tomorrow.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Castiel rocks on his heels, then lunges toward the door. He's nearly there when Dean calls his name again. He takes a breath and turns, but he wasn't prepared for what he finds. 

Instead of eating first, Dean seems to have decided to bathe. He's shirtless now, with his pants undone in the front. His hard muscles are accented with dirt and blood and sweat. Castiel’s throat closes at the blood. “You're hurt.” 

“Barely,” Dean mutters, waving it off like he always does. Castiel charges forward until he's just an arms length away and takes him in. There are a few minor cuts and bruises, but overall he actually seems fairly okay this time. The cut just below his left pec must have bled superficially. _ Thank the gods. _

“What was it you wanted?” Castiel forces himself to ask, looking into the prince’s eyes. 

The prince seems bored with him. “Wash my tunic too.”

Castiel swallows a sigh and fakes a smile. “Yes, Sire. Have a good night.”

Dean doesn’t return the formality. He never does when Castiel says things like that. He just lets Castiel quietly retreat, already forgetting the manservant exists. It doesn’t upset Castiel. He understands. 

Castiel is nothing, and Prince Dean is everything. 

  


\----

  


After a long training session with the knights, Prince Dean leads his small group of friends into the great hall for a hearty breakfast. His chest is hurting him more than it should be, and that’s pissing him off. He’s a knight - hell, he’s the _ prince _\- so he shouldn't be struggling from a few nicks and bruises.

He tunes into the conversation his friends are having, trying to forget about his injuries. Whenever his stupid manservant - who is late _ again _\- pops his head around, Dean will just tell Castiel to draw him another bath and add those healing salts the castle healer gave him. That’ll fix this. 

Benny is telling an elaborate story, his hands waving through the air. “- thought the kid was gonna die, but ended up being a total badass instead. I can’t believe that guy didn’t punch Castiel right in the face. That boy is something else.”

Dean glares at Benny. “Who was going to punch my manservant?”

“One of the kitchen boys. It wasn’t a big deal, they’re already over it, but you should have seen them. For a few minutes there, I feared for one’s life.”

“Mm,” Dean grunts, grabbing his ale to take a drink. 

His friends pretend like he didn’t interrupt, returning to their comments on Castiel. “I don’t care if it pissed that kitchen boy off, what Castiel said was hilarious,” Ash states. 

“He’s like that all the time,” Kevin points out. “Some of his one-liners just stop me in my tracks.”

Dean frowns. Castiel isn’t funny at all. He’s dry and boring and insignificant. Whenever Castiel says anything that doesn’t pertain directly to an order, it’s annoying, not funny. 

Why the hell are his knights talking about a manservant right now? Who cares about him?

Don’t they notice that Castiel is late? Dean had to get his own food, his own ale, and his own napkin for breakfast because his annoying manservant sucks at his damn job. 

“-and have you noticed how he's always running around like a chicken with his head cut off?” Benny smiles fondly. “Adorable.”

“Adorable?” Dean sits up straight. Now they must be messing with him. “Castiel? Adorable?”

“I know it's not exactly the manliest term of endearment, but how else do you describe the boy? He's an adorable goof,” Benny defends with a shrug. 

Ash nods. “So true.”

“And such a good heart,” Kevin adds. 

Dean sits back and chugs his ale. His cup is empty, and his damn manservant isn’t here to refill it. Where the hell is he? Dean almost wishes these men were bashing Castiel. Hating him. This sort of talk is creating a fire in the pit of his stomach. For some reason, he doesn't like them talking about Castiel this way. Castiel is his.

Not _ his _ . He means his _ servant. _ Just _ his _servant, of course. 

“Sire?” Dean lifts his head to look at Ash in question. “Did you hear Benny?”

“No. Pardon me. What was it?”

Benny starts to talk about the new knights, something along the lines of them looking pretty good so far in their training, but Dean only half listens. 

Castiel better be okay. He better not be dead in a ditch somewhere, or with dangerous men, or sick, or hurt. Not because Dean cares about the boy - he couldn’t care less - but hiring a new manservant would be a hassle. That’s why he hasn’t bothered replacing the absolutely terrible manservant he already has. He doesn’t like Castiel - not a bit - but he just doesn’t have the time or energy to waste on finding him a replacement. 

  


\----

  


Castiel drags himself out of his family’s stable, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. The family horse needed new shoes, more food, and a mucked stable. Since Castiel’s father passed away two years ago, and his mother is swamped working at the family bakery, these kinds of tasks landed on Castiel to take care of. 

When he looks at the position of the sun, his stomach drops. He’s late. So very late. The prince is going to kill him. 

Castiel finds the prince eating breakfast with his friends in the great hall. Everyone but Dean is laughing and talking. Instead of joining in, Dean is staring off as if he’s deep in thought. He’s the first to see Castiel, and his demeanor immediately shifts. 

“Where have you been?” he barks. 

“I-”

“Never mind, I don’t care. You should have been here.”

“Yes, Sire. I apologize.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, I already got breakfast so go be useful and draw me a hot bath with some of those salts - you know the ones.” 

“Yes, Sire.”

“And make sure I have the documents from my father in my chambers so I can look them over.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“And the royal ball is coming up. My father expects me to be well-dressed. You’ll pick out a few suitable options and have them delivered for me to try on.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“The four of us will be going for a hunting trip tomorrow. Prepare the horses.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“And our weapons.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“And make sure that our lunch and canteens are prepared ahead of time.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Also - wait. Castiel, what in the gods’ names is that hideous odor?” the prince growls. 

Castiel’s face burns hot. “Me, Sire. I -”

“It’s disgusting. Add bathing yourself to the list. I didn’t know you were a child who couldn’t figure that out on your own.” Dean sneers at him. “Don’t touch any of my belongings until you’re washed. And don’t you dare enter my chambers.”

“Yes, Sire.” Castiel starts to leave, but pauses. “Sire?”

Dean looks at him in annoyance. “What?”

“You were going to ask me to do something. Before you smelled me, I mean.”

“Ahh yes.” Dean chuckles. “Clean my socks and change my bedding.”

“Yes, Sire.”

When Castiel stays in place for more than a second, just in case Dean has any more requests, Dean waves a hand toward the door. “No one wants you here. You’re not needed. Shoo.”

Feeling like an unwanted stray animal, Castiel hurries out of the hall. He ignores the burning ache in his chest at the way Dean just treated him. It’s not new by any means. Dean makes it clear that he finds Castiel annoying, insignifcant, and incompetent. What’s new is the way it hurts. 

Castiel is sure the feeling with fade, just like he’s sure his love will. It’s just a passing crush. Silly, really. 

Maybe if he throws himself into his work, he’ll forget about it entirely. 

  


\----

  


Dean feels much better. He got to yell at Castiel, soak in his healing bath, and attend a dinner with some guests from a neighboring kingdom. He’s pleasantly buzzed and sitting by his fireplace - he’d like to note that he had to light the damn thing himself, because who knows where Castiel is again - reading through his documents. 

“Hey royal asshole,” Ash teases as he enters Dean’s chambers without permission. No matter how many times Dean tells him to knock, or to speak to him with respect even when in private, Ash doesn’t listen. If Dean is being honest, he rather enjoys it. 

“Hello royal pain in my ass.” 

“Touche.” Ash plops down on the couch and looks at one of the documents, making a face. “Eww. Boring. Come to the tavern with us.”

“You know I can’t do that. Perhaps a different night.”

“Those two sentences sound awfully familiar,” Ash grumbles. 

Dean sighs. “Ash-”

“Not tonight. Save the whole _ a prince’s responsibilities _ speech.”

“Ash-”

“By the way? You were kind of a dick to Castiel this morning. Why do you act like that? Out of all of us knights, and all of your servants, and all of the villagers, you only treat _ him _ like he’s shit on your boot.”

Feeling under attack, Dean stands up and walks away from Ash. “Go to the tavern, Ash. I do not have time for this.”

“Yeah. Keep tellin’ yourself that, Winchester,” Ash says with a laugh. “One of these days, you’re going to finally let yourself relax, maybe even be happy. I’ll let you in on a secret. It won’t happen reading those documents, or while abusing Castiel.”

Dean keeps his back to his friend, ignoring him. They stand that way for a full minute before Ash releases a long sigh and says, “Have a good night, Sire.”

“You as well, Sir Ashton.”

Dean doesn’t go back to reading his documents, deciding to go for a walk instead. What Ash said is true. He knows it is. More and more lately, ever since Castiel began working for him, Dean’s been feeling restless and unsatisfied. He’s been working harder and more often, trying to keep busy so he doesn’t have to deal with the reasoning behind it. 

Why couldn’t Ash just leave him be?

  


\---- 

  


Castiel should have never agreed to going to the tavern with the knights. For one, he’s exhausted and could really use some rest. For another, the knights are notorious for causing trouble when they go out drinking. 

Tonight, the knights are even worse. The second they sit down and order a round of mead, they begin to bother Castiel, starting with why he was late this morning. Then why Dean was so angry. Then what’s up with the two of them. 

When Castiel blushes hard, the guys press harder. “What’s been going on with you? The last few days, you’ve been weird. Especially when it comes to Dean.” 

Finishing off his drink for courage, he decides to tell them. They might be Dean’s friends, but they’re also Castiel’s friends - the only friends he really has - and he could really use them right now. 

“I’m having a hard time working for Dean right now,” Castiel starts.

“Why?” Ash asks, scandalized and worried at the same time. 

“I feel things for him that I shouldn’t feel.” 

The tavern owner comes around and pours Castiel another drink. He gulps it generously to find relief from how embarrassing this entire thing is. He can’t even look at the men to see what they’re thinking about his confession, but the silence can’t be good. 

After another minute goes by, Castiel finally peeks up. The person he makes eye contact with first is Benny, who is grinning at him like an idiot. “There he is!”

“Our boy!” Ash says with a smirk. 

“It’s about damn time,” Kevin laughs. 

Benny throws his hand up. “Right?”

“You owe me a pitcher of ale, my friends,” Ash says to Benny and Kevin with a wink. 

They all keep going, leaving Castiel to sit there, completely baffled. They aren’t surprised. They aren’t upset. They, from the sounds of it, have actually discussed it before. 

“Wait, what about ale? Did you make a bet on whether I liked Dean or not?” Castiel asks.

Ash snorts a laugh. “No, Castiel. We all knew for certain that you felt this way for the man. We just didn’t agree on when you’d finally admit it.”

“Hey, bet is still on for how long it will take for them to get together,” Benny grumbles, since he lost the first bet. He quickly smiles though, and shoots Castiel a wink. “Do me a favor and take your time. I’ve got you down for winter.”

“Cheater! Disregard that, Castiel. You do it on your own time!” Ash tells Castiel, barely able to contain a smile as he tries to act outraged. 

Castiel laughs in relief, nearly brought to tears by the knowledge that his friends are accepting this without question. Then it registers what Ash and Benny are now arguing about. “Wait. Don’t bet about us getting together. That will never happen?”

“Oh really?” Ash asks with a smirk. “And why is that?”

“He doesn’t feel the same.”

Benny rolls his eyes. “And you know that how?”

“I just do. I mean, it’s kind of obvious. He hates me.”

“Hate is very close to love,” Kevin points out. “A thin line, in fact.”

Castiel stares down at his drink. “I think I would know if he felt the same.”

“Well, you’d think he would know that you feel this way, but he clearly doesn’t now does he?” Benny smiles at Castiel, daring him to argue the logic. 

Castiel goes a different route. “He’s the prince.”

“I don’t think it matters much.”

Castiel looks at Leon like he’s crazy and laughs. “Doesn’t matter? He’s the _ prince _. And even if he wasn’t, he’s never shown any interest. I’m the opposite of what he would want in a partner. I’m the opposite of what anyone would want. Look at me.”

A sudden seriousness settles around the table. Even Ash stops smiling. Castiel just finishes his drink and waves for another. He’s pleasantly buzzed and feeling lighter, both from the drink and from finally getting this off his chest. 

“Listen, Castiel. You should never believe that about yourself. Whether Dean feels how you feel or not.” Kevin places a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re a great man. And one day, you’ll make a great partner to someone. Even if it isn’t Dean.”

“But it needs to be Dean. Preferably in winter,” Benny says, successfully lightening the mood again by making Castiel and the others laugh. 

“How about we all forget about the pain in the ass that is our prince and just drink, yeah?” Ash suggests. 

Everyone lifts their glasses in agreement to Ash’s idea. For the rest of their time, they do nothing but laugh and talk about light subjects. 

Castiel leaves the tavern feeling as if he’s floating on air. When he reaches his small quarters in the basement of the castle, he remembers that he forgot to give Dean clean bedding. Grumbling to himself, Castiel staggers up the eight flights of stairs to the prince’s room. He prepares himself to get yelled at for at least one reason, if not more, but Dean’s bed chambers are empty. He’s nowhere to be found. 

It’s Castiel’s lucky day. All he has to do is hurry through taking the old bedding off and replacing it with the clean bedding Castiel got from the clothesline earlier. He makes the bed exactly how Dean likes it. Then he gets a fantastic idea. 

Castiel has never felt fabric so unbelievably silky and soft. His favorite thing to do is run his hands along it, taking his time as he washes it or places it on Dean’s bed. Now he could get the chance to actually lay in it. Fully encase himself in that luxurious feeling. 

Which has to be done naked. Because, duh. 

Not even thinking twice, Castiel strips out of his clothes and crawls into the prince’s bed. It’s even better than he imagined it would be. The perfect temperature. The perfect feeling against his naked skin. And even though they’re clean, they still smell faintly of Dean. Or maybe that’s just the room as a whole. Either way, Castiel likes it an awful lot. 

He thinks he could stay there forever, but he knows that he can’t. With a final sigh, he slips back out of the bed and reaches for his shirt. 

Whoever Dean Winchester fucks in that bed is so damn lucky.

  


\---- 

  


When Dean walks into his bed chambers, he’s more confused than when he left. At first he was just thinking about the things Ash said regarding him relaxing and being happy, but then his mind wandered to Castiel. He has every right to treat Castiel the way he does, doesn’t he? He’s practically useless. Always late. Annoying as hell. Screwing nearly all of his tasks up. 

He stops short when he notices someone next to his bed, bending over to reach for something. Dean’s mouth opens as he prepares to bark at Castiel, telling him to get the hell out. That’s when he sees that Castiel is naked. Completely naked. 

His ass is like two perfect little globes that Dean wants to grab and squeeze. There are dimples on the bottom of his back, and a freckle on his right ass cheek. 

When did he get so good looking? 

Good looking? Fuck that. When did he get so sexy? _ Gorgeous? _

It’s like the lights turn on, and Dean suddenly realizes what he needs. He needs that right there. Castiel in his bed. Spread open on his cock. Moaning and whining. That will help him unwind, maybe even make him happy. Bonus points if it makes Castiel a better worker after. And it’s the perfect situation. Dean doesn’t have to worry about Castiel getting feelings or getting attached, because the boy is smarter than that. Dean is a prince. Dean is a male. Dean is so much better than some little peasant boy. 

Decision made. Dean just found his new stress reliever. 

  


\---- 

  


When two hands rest on Castiel’s bare hips, Castiel drops his shirt and freezes. He can feel someone breathing on the back of his neck and he squeezes his eyes shut, terrified that it’s Dean, but terrified that it’s not. A calloused thumb skims along the dip of his hip and down his thigh, making Castiel shiver. 

“Look at you. All ready for me,” Dean growls in his ear, pressing his tented pants into Castiel’s ass. Castiel accidentally whimpers. “Did you come here to make this morning up to me? Hmm? Maybe finally perform a duty for me that’ll make me happy?”

Castiel gulps. “I - I just wanted to-”

“To what?” Dean asks with a smile in his voice. “To get fucked? Your wish is my command.”

“I-”

“Hush.” Dean clamps his teeth down on the side of Castiel’s neck, biting hard. His hand snakes around to grab Castiel’s already hard cock. He squeezes it twice before chuckling darkly into Castiel's ear. “You want to get fucked by the prince, Castiel?”

Castiel shivers. “Y - yes. Please. Need - need it.”

“Yeah, bet you do. Lucky for you, I’m a kind prince. Gonna take care of my poor little needy subject.” Dean smacks his ass so hard he stumbles forward, then points to the bed. “Get on. Hands and knees.”

Scrambling to do as told, Castiel tries to keep his breathing even. He’s practically panting, and the last thing he wants is for Dean to tease him for the way he’s clearly desperate to be fucked. This is embarrassing enough. Castiel isn't an idiot. He knows what this is. Dean doesn’t feel anything for him like Castiel feels for Dean. This is just sex. Probably rough, violent sex, considering how much Dean hates him. This is just a prince using his servant as he sees fit. 

Castiel can’t get himself to care. 

He’s a virgin - about to lose his virginity to the crowned prince - and this will probably be the best sex of his life, if the rumors about Dean are true. Castiel isn’t going to complain.

Two rough hands slap down on his ass cheeks, then begin to knead and spread them. Castiel groans and starts to fall forward but Dean tugs him back and orders him to stay. When Dean spreads him wide and spits on his hole, Castiel thinks staying might not be physically possible. His arms and legs are beginning to give out already. He can’t imagine when-

“Ooooh!” Castiel arches his back, keening. Dean has a finger inside of him. Just a single finger. And it burns and aches and feels fucking amazing all at the same time. 

When Castiel buries his face in the mattress, arms turning to jelly, Dean chuckles and says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was your first time in the sack.”

Castiel tenses, gritting his teeth and saying nothing. The finger in his ass stills and Dean shifts slightly. “Castiel, have you had sex before?”

“N - no.”

“Not even with a woman?”

“No.”

The pause that follows his answer is so long that Castiel starts to feel like maybe he should leave. Just as he’s thinking of a way to get out of here while saving as much face as possible, Dean’s moving the finger again. 

“Well, good,” Dean states, adding a second finger. “Then I’ll be the one to teach you. Mold you into the perfect little fuck boy for me.”

“For you?”

“Yes. As my manservant, you’re expected to take care of all of my needs, are you not?”

Castiel shivers. “Yes, Sire.”

“Only mine, Castiel,” Dean growls as he spits on his hand and starts to slick his cock up. “My fuck boy. No one else’s. Understood?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Good.” Castiel feels pressure against his hole and sucks in a breath, his fists twisting the sheets. Even though Dean doesn’t want to care, he does. So, instead of just pushing his way in and ignoring any pain or discomfort on Castiel’s part, he decides to help the boy. “Breathe, Castiel. You need to relax.”

Castiel nods and tries to do as told. Each breath is hitched and shaky, and his body is trembling. Stepping out of his comfort zone - he refuses to think about why - Dean glues his front to Castiel’s back and comes over him. He slots their fingers together and holds Castiel’s hands nice and tight. 

Resting his lips against Castiel’s ear, Dean whispers to him, “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just relax.”

“‘S gonna hurt?”

“Yeah.” Dean releases a breathy laugh, unable to sugarcoat it. “But then it’s gonna feel really fucking good.”

“O- o- okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to laugh. “You hate me, so not really.”

Dean bites his lip. That’s not true. Not true at all. 

That’s actually the problem. Dean wants to hate him, _ desperately _, because the alternative is so much worse. That’s why he treats Castiel so poorly. If he’s yelling at Castiel, he’s not talking to him. If he’s giving Castiel constant menial tasks, Castiel’s not around as much. If he’s pretending to ignore Castiel, not even bothering to look at him, it’s because Dean can’t fucking look at him. 

Pressing a soft kiss to the back of Castiel’s neck, Dean whispers, “I’ve got you. I promise.”

Like magic, he feels Castiel relax beneath him. His breathing evens out. His fingers move so he’s actually participating in the hand holding. 

He even smiles. 

Dean pulls back just enough to re-align his cock with Castiel’s hole, then begins to push in. When Castiel tenses again, Dean starts peppering kisses down the side of his neck and shoulder. It takes a while, but he’s finally inside him. Dean feels ready to burst at that point. 

“Cas?” he croaks out. 

“Yeah?”

“I gotta - fuck, I need to move. You good?”

Castiel pauses. “Good as think Imma be.”

Nodding in understanding, Dean slowly pulls out and lets go of Castiel’s hands so he can move back and grip his hips firmly. He uses his thumbs to pull his ass cheeks apart a little further, enjoying the view as Castiel’s hole flutters, silently begging for his cock. Dean teases it for a few seconds with the leaking tip of his cock before finally lining back up and pounding into him. Castiel screams into the mattress, his ass rising in the air from the pain. 

As he continues to fuck Castiel, Dean brings a hand around to make the boy’s softening cock hard again. Once it’s heavy and full in his hand, Castiel is moaning and nodding, pushing his hips back to meet every movement. Dean continues to massage Castiel’s cock as he clamps down on his trap muscle and starts to suck a bruise there. The grip on Castiel's cock makes it so his body can’t be moved forward with the thrusts, keeping Castiel in place despite the fact that Dean is repeatedly slamming into him hard. Castiel starts mewling, throwing his head back. 

“De- Sire. Si- Sire. Gonna come!”

“Go ahead.” Dean licks at the mark he’s been creating, then digs his teeth into it, nearly piercing the skin. It makes Castiel buck, which fucks his ass back against Dean’s cock and his own cock up into Dean’s hand. His muscles tense and Dean moans, loving the way Castiel’s ass clenches around him as his cock covers Dean’s hand in cum. 

It only takes Dean a few more seconds before he’s finishing inside Castiel’s hole. He collapses onto him, but quickly rolls so they’re both on their sides. No reason to crush Castiel to death. Not after that. Dean’s keeping this boy around. 

Except, Castiel starts to pull away from him. Dean’s spent cock slips out of his hole and he props himself up on one shoulder to see what Castiel is doing. The boy just slid off the bed and is reaching down for his pants. 

“Where are you going?” Dean asks in a sharper tone than he planned. 

Castiel freezes, his hand clenching around his pants. He can’t look back at Dean. If he does, Dean might be able to see the whirlwind of emotions displayed on his face. That can’t happen. Dean Winchester - the crowned prince - can’t find out that Castiel loves him. 

“I - uh,” Castiel clears his throat. “I have a lot of work to do in the morning, and it’s late. Don’t - don’t worry. Your breakfast will be on time, Sire.”

“I don’t give a fuck about my breakfast. Get back in my bed.” 

On accident, Castiel turns to look at him. He’s stunned speechless. So, when Dean reaches out and grabs him, yanking Castiel onto the bed and back into his arms, Castiel just turns to putty and lets it happen. He lays with his cheek pressed against Dean’s sweaty chest, utterly confused. He’s praying Dean can’t hear how hard his heart is beating. 

“You will sleep in here tonight,” Dean informs him, making it clear it’s not a choice. It sounds like a relationship, though. Romantic. Dean can’t have that. So, he makes sure to add, “That way if I feel like fucking something, my fuck toy will be nearby.”

Dean pretends he doesn’t notice the way Castiel sags in defeat, as well as the way his voice cracks when he whispers, “Yes, Sire.”

He thinks he can handle it - he can pretend he doesn’t care that he hurt Castiel - until Castiel adds a soft, “I can sleep on the couch, Sire. So you can get a good night’s sleep. If you… need me, you can just call for me.”

Feeling his heart sink, Dean gives in. He’s too damn tired. It’s late. He has an early training session in the morning. This boy is gorgeous and soft in his arms. Dean loves him. He doesn’t have the energy to pretend he doesn’t anymore. 

“Castiel, you will stay in my bed. I want you in my bed. Not just to fuck you. Understood?”

He feels the boy tense. “But then - what does that mean? Why?”

Dean groans. “One minute after sex and you’re back to being annoying. Just let me hold you, my gods.”

“But-”

“Because I love you, you annoying little fumbling twit. Now go to sleep unless you want me to be killed in tomorrow’s training session because I didn't get enough rest.”

Castiel goes quiet, his body relaxing against Dean’s. He can tell by the way Castiel subtly shifts every few seconds, though, that he wants to say something more. Of course he does. Would Castiel really be Castiel if he didn’t push every one of Dean’s buttons?

Sighing, Dean growls into the boy’s ear, “Spit it out.”

“Uh - oh - nothing!”

“Castiel.” It’s a warning, and Castiel has worked for Dean long enough to know that. 

So he blurts out, “I love you too!”

Dean laughs softly, pulling Castiel closer to him. He kisses the top of his head. “Great. Now that that’s settled, can we fucking sleep?”

He feels Castiel smile against his chest. “Yeah. Goodnight, De - Sire.”

“Dean,” Dean corrects. “Unless we’re around others, just call me Dean.”

“Oh. O - okay.” Castiel squirms against him. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night Cas.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
